Getting dressed in a scramble was one of her worst nightmares-she hated being rushed, especially for such a major event where she could count on her appearance being scrutinzed by the sharpest eyes in the ton.
Blotting her face with the towel, Alathea shook her head. "No-not those. My dance slippers. The ones with no heel."
Hurrying to the bed, she stripped off her linen chemise, then slipped into the welcoming coolness of silk. At least with the present fashions, she didn't have to bother with petticoats. Throwing her gown of amber silk crepe over her head, she tugged it down, settled it, then whirled and let the tweeny tie the laces. The instant the last was secured, she rushed to her dressing table, plunked herself on the stool, and plunged her hands into her hair.
Pins flew. "Quickly-we'll have to braid it." There was no time for a more sophisticated style.
It was only as the maid reached the end of the long braid that Alathea realized she needed two plaits to make a coronet. "Oh." For one moment, she simply stared, then she waved the tweeny aside and grabbed the braid. "Here-if we do it like this, it should pass muster."
Underrolling half the thick braid, she bunched it at her nape, then used the long end to circle and bind it. Pushing pins in right and left, up and down, she frantically secured what would pass for a braided chignon.
"There!" Moving her head, she confirmed the mass was anchored, then quickly eased the strands pulled back from her face so they formed a softer frame. One more quick check, then she nodded. "Now…"
Opening a drawer in the table, she rummaged through her caps. Freeing a fine net heavily encrusted with gold beads, she grimaced. "This will have to do." Setting it over her hair so the lower edge curved about the braided bun, she pinned it in place.
Beyond her door, Mary's and Alice's voices rang, then their quick footsteps hurried for the stairs. Alathea quelled an impulse to look at the clock-she didn't have time. "Jewelry." Flinging open her jewelry box, s
he blinked. "Oh." Her hand hovered over the contents, all neatly arranged.
"I took the liberty of tidying, miss. Nellie said as how I had to dust and tidy every day."
After one stunned glance at the tweeny's hopeful face, Alathea looked back at the box. "Yes-well. That's all right."
Except that now she hadn't a clue where her pearl earrings were, let alone the matching pendant. Spearing her fingers into the piles, scattering and disarranging as she went, Alathea unearthed the earrings. Standing, she leaned closer to the mirror and quickly fitted them.
"Allie? Are you ready?"
"Open the door," Alathea instructed the maid. As soon as the door swung wide, she called, "I'm coming!" And fell to ransacking her jewelry box again.
In one corner, she noted the Venetian glass flacon that contained the countess's perfume. After her recent mistake, she'd decided to take no further chances-the flacon was one of an identical pair. The other bottle contained her customary perfume; she'd left that out on the table. Her searching fingers finally touched the gold chain she sought; drawing the gold and pearl pendant free, she held the chain around her neck. "Hurry."
The tweeny's fingers were sure; the clasp closed as Mary came rushing to the door.
"The carriage is pulling up! Mama says we have to go now!"
"I'm coming." Grabbing the flacon on her table, Alathea liberally sprinkled, then whirled-"Oh, no! Not that reticule-the small gold one!"
The tweeny dived for her armoire; shawls and reticules went flying. "This one?"
Grabbing her shawl from the bed, Alathea headed for the door. "Yes!"
Waving the reticule, the tweeny chased her down the corridor. Settling her shawl over her elbows, Alathea grabbed the reticule, checked it contained a handkerchief and pins, then lengthened her stride, took the stairs two at a time, raced through the tiled foyer, out the door Crisp held wide, pattered down the steps and dove into the carriage.
Folwell shut the door behind her, and the carriage lurched into motion.
The crowd in Lady Arbuthnot's ballroom was unbearably dense. Having arrived as late as he dared, Gabriel inwardly girded his loins, then stepped off the stairs and plunged in. Prevented from propping his shoulders against the wall-there was no spare wall left-he circulated through the crowd, keeping an eagle eye out for those who most wished to see him, intent on seeing them first, and avoiding them.
High on his list of people to be missed were ladies such as Agatha Herries. He didn't see her early enough; she placed herself directly in his path. With no alternative offering, he halted before her. She smiled archly up at him and laid a hand on his sleeve.
"Gabriel, darling."
He nodded. "Agatha."
His tone was the very essence of unencouraging. Despite that, Lady Herries's smile deepened. Calculation gleamed in her eyes. "I wonder if, perhaps, we might find a quiet spot."
"For what?"
She studied him, then let her lids veil her eyes and slowly stroked her hand down his arm. "Just a little proposition I'd like to put to you. A personal matter."